


Holy Terrain

by perihadion



Series: Sanctuary [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Clothed Sex, F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Outdoor Sex, Sexual Content, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22041178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perihadion/pseuds/perihadion
Summary: Omera and the Mandalorian take a walk in the woods one evening. One thing leads to another.Set during 1x04 after the raid on Sorgan.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Omera (Star Wars)
Series: Sanctuary [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586530
Comments: 10
Kudos: 83





	Holy Terrain

**Author's Note:**

> This is "that night" referred to in my other piece, [Covenant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22009108).

It was after dark and the child cooed and burbled in his crib: it had taken almost an hour for the Mandalorian to get the exhausted toddler to sleep. Now he leaned up against the window frame, looking out over the village. He knew he should turn in too, but something transfixed him. The village was so quiet after dark now that they had taken care of the AT-ST and the raiders, peaceful. The moon was full, and it cast everything in a cold, silver light. He was about to turn, and start preparing for bed, when something caught his eye.

It was Omera. He watched as she crossed the village, headed for the woods. He looked back at the child, still sleeping, and sighed.

There was a light breeze when he stepped out of the barn which agitated his cloak. It was cool, and damp. He wished that he could take off his helmet, and breathe in the earthy wet air — but of course that was impossible. Omera was walking slowly, and he caught up to her with ease. She looked over her shoulder at the sound of his footsteps, and smiled when she saw him.

“I saw —” he began, “I wondered where you were going.”

“I like to walk in the woods sometimes,” she said. “It should be safe now.” She gave him a thoughtful look and then said, “Would you like to come with me?”

He would, of course, very much. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. “It would be for my protection.”

He looked from her hand on his arm to her face. She was bewitching. He wondered if she had any idea of the effect she had on him. “That’s very kind,” he said.

They walked in silence for a little while, and Omera ran her hands along the rough bark of the trees they passed. The Mandalorian felt strange, like something was about to happen but he had no idea what. Crickets sang around them.

“I used to walk like this with my husband,” Omera said at length. She looked up at him and smiled. “It’s nice to have a companion again.” He tilted his head towards her, but he had nothing to say. He realised his heart was pounding, and wondered why.

“I used to put my hand in his —“ she said, reaching out and slipping her hand into the Mandalorian’s. “Like this.”

They came to an abrupt stop, and her eyes found his behind the visor. He felt that he was vibrating. She looked down at where their hands met, and curled her fingers, finding the holy ground between the edge of his glove and his sleeve. It was the first time he had been touched tenderly in years — maybe decades. She looked up at him again, and he knew she felt just as he did.

Who started it, he wasn’t sure. But somehow they fell against the tree, crushed together, his arm around her waist to protect her from the impact. She pressed kisses to his helmet: first one side, then the other, and pulled off his glove to press kisses to his palm. He knew now, as he twisted his fingers in her hair, exactly what was going to happen. There was no use protesting.

She gasped as he lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist; he shivered as she brushed against his erection. He wished he could bury his face in her hair and breath in the scent of her, press kisses to her neck as she was to his — pulling the cowl down to reach the precious skin. He wished he could fall to his knees before her and make her see stars.

Instead he pushed his ungloved hand between them to stroke the soft skin of her inner thigh. Her mouth was parted, and she looked into him — right into him — as he stroked her over her underwear. She was already wet, proud and defiant, and he groaned, rocking against her.

“This is what I want,” she whispered against his helmet, and it vibrated through him. Everything about her was intoxicating. And he knew, she must realise, he couldn’t give her any more than this. Out in the woods, like this, the whole idea should have seemed profane, but awash in moonlight with her breath coming short and shallow, it felt almost religious. He slipped his hand into her underwear and found her clit, tracing delicate, teasing circles around it as she tried to angle her hips to take more from him. He found himself rubbing against her, aching for her.

She unwound her arms from his neck and grabbed his hand. He understood. He pushed her skirt up, and pulled off her underwear. He was achingly hard for her when he pulled himself from his trousers, rubbing the head of his cock over her entrance and her clit. Their eyes met, and she nodded.

She closed her eyes and let out a low moan as he pushed into her. He put his hand over her mouth and she kissed it, understanding. They stayed like that, still, in the moonlight with one hand on her mouth and the other on the small of her back, and then they began to move.

He knew that it would be over fast — but the way Omera bit down on his hand, and then gripped him tight and pressed her face into his neck to muffle her noises he knew she was as desperate as he was. Maybe it was always going to go this way between them. He put a hand under her backside and pulled her in close so that he could rub against her clit with every stroke. She bit down so hard he could feel the sweet pain even through his cowl. He was so close to the edge, and when he felt her low moan vibrate through him as she came, he tipped over it, spilling into her.

They stayed like that for a few moments, before starting to disentangle themselves. “I’m sorry —” he started to say, but she smiled, and placed her hands either side of his helmet, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to it and he felt the words catch in his throat.

They cleaned up the best they could, and then she wound her arm in his, leaning against him as they walked back into the village.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [twitter](http://twitter.com/theoceanblooms) or [tumblr](http://spectroscopes.tumblr.com)!


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